There Will Come Soft Rains

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound
And frogs in the pools singing at night
And wild plum-trees in tremulous white

(And frogs in the pools singing at night)
(And wild plum-trees in tremulous white)

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it done

(And frogs in the pools singing at night)
(And wild plum-trees in tremulous white)
(And not one will know of the war, not one)
(Will care at last when it done)

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone



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